


I Can Still Remember Just The Way You Taste

by Ghanima_Starkiller



Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-12-05 05:11:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghanima_Starkiller/pseuds/Ghanima_Starkiller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Susan muses on what could have been, and possibly what had been, as she struggles through everyday life after Narnia</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can Still Remember Just The Way You Taste

Susan Pevensie no longer believes in second chances.

She doesn’t speak about it. She’s not sure what she’d say if she could. Her brothers and sister are still very much taken with the world that they left behind, but Susan finds that the memories have turned bittersweet with regret.

She finds she thinks of him at the most unexpected moments: when she’s rolling her nylons up over her legs and she imagines how he’d wake her with a kiss on the ankle, his lips brushing soft skin as he makes his way up her calf to the back of her knee. Slipping beneath the luxurious sheets of the royal bed, his large, slender and nimble hands would follow the path that his mouth had blazed, his fingers bending around and following the curves of her legs as his thumbs run in circles against her flesh.

His pace would be slow, at his leisure. He’s playful, making her giggle, his own deep, melodic chuckle sending a gust of his hot breath across the backs of her thighs, raising gooseflesh, making her skin prick and tingle. Before she realizes it, she’s shivering in delight, nuzzling the pillow her cheek is resting against as if it were his long, sinuously muscular chest.

He uses his mouth first to arouse and ignite the sultry place between her thighs until she’s gasping, moaning, burrowing herself into the feather mattress in an attempt to muffle her cries of passion as his tongue explores the dewy petals of her private places, lapping her up like a cat at its bowl of fresh, warm cream.

She’s putting on her lipstick in the mirror as her fantasies take her further, following the contours of her lips with the rogue when she sees him braced above her, his deep, warm brown eyes meeting hers the color of ice but gentle for him, like a spring rain. He wears a self-confident, roguish sort of half-smile as he bows his head to kiss her, caressing her full lips with his own. He enters her at last, sliding the length of his cock into her, nestling deep within her.

Their bellies meet as they arch and surge against one another, hers round and soft, his taut, flat, furred with silken black down; the flesh of both is sweat-slickened, creating an odd and pleasant sort of friction between them. He’s tender, sprawling his big hand against the small of her back, gliding it across her backside, guiding her movements so that he may penetrate her more greatly and at a purely satisfying angle. He fits so snugly within her warm, silken confines, and she clasps about him tightly in a lover’s most intimate embrace.

Restraint and resolve melt away in a sweltering spell of rapture and they’re bucking against one another wildly, their rhythm now savage, merciless in their desire to feel every secret inch of one another and for release.

Susan’s sitting on the train finishing off a pear, the juice running down her fingers as she removed a seed from between her lips, when she at last thinks about his fulfillment, the rush of his spending surging forth into her, hot, sticky. She wraps her arms about him as if she would never let go as he falls into her, taking care not to crush her beneath him, pulling her with him as he rolls onto his side, entwining her in his arms.

“Sue, you look positively morbid!” her friend observes with a generous snort, shaking Susan out of her reverie. She has reason to be, she thinks as she glowers for a moment. Susan Pevensie no longer believes in second chances—but she would certainly like to.


End file.
